Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Candidates This Year Are Rather Lacking

In this era, starved for entertainment, even the most trivial pieces of gossip could spread far and wide—let alone a matter as monumental as the imperial examinations. In truth, Yi’an had underestimated just how much the public cared.

By the time Yi’an returned home, the officials who had come to deliver the good news had already left. According to custom, those who brought tidings of success would expect a tip, and those who had passed the exams were rarely stingy; after all, the joy of such an achievement was enough to wash away all hesitation—it was a chance to court good fortune.

Following the directions, these officials quickly arrived at the Yuan household. What they had not anticipated was that it would be none other than the famous Wei Liang of Hangzhou who opened the door for them. They were immediately struck with alarm; though Wei Liang no longer held an official title, the entire yamen knew his reputation—once a high-ranking official whose words reached the emperor’s ear. Even the city governor would address Wei Liang as “teacher.”

Though these were but minor functionaries, each was sharp in his own way. In Hangzhou, there were a handful of people one must never offend, and Wei Liang topped that list. Thus, after delivering the news, every extra moment they lingered felt torturous—especially under Wei Liang’s imposing presence, which weighed heavily upon them.

In the end, they left without even asking for the customary tip, fleeing as if from danger.

Wei Liang, for his part, was completely bewildered, so much so that he remained in a daze even after the officials had departed.

What had they just said?

Yi’an had placed first in the provincial examinations?

Unless his ears were deceiving him, that was what he’d heard.

It wasn’t that Wei Liang doubted it outright, but it was hard to believe. He knew better than anyone what Yi’an was capable of, and by his estimation, Yi’an’s abilities shouldn’t have been enough to win the top spot. Yet the facts were plain, leaving him with no choice but to accept them.

Still, Yi’an’s success was undeniably something to celebrate.

It reflected well on him, too. Although they had never formally established a master-disciple relationship, it was common knowledge that Yi’an had flourished under his guidance. People would credit him, and he could boast of having produced two such exam champions from his household.

Xuanyangzi appeared behind him just then, smiling as he said, “That boy is a man of great fortune. Nothing that happens to him can be weighed by ordinary standards.”

Wei Liang rolled his eyes. This old Daoist again—he had a way of turning everything into something else entirely.

Xuanyangzi paid the gesture no mind and continued cheerfully, “It’s not just about being first in the provincial exams. Even if he were to become the top scholar in the imperial examinations one day, I would not be surprised.”

It seemed he had found in Wei Liang a kindred spirit, though they suffered in different domains, and so felt a mutual sympathy. Wei Liang, however, had not yet been brought low by reality; once he gained such insight, he would understand exactly what Xuanyangzi meant.

But regardless of talk of fortune, Wei Liang was genuinely pleased with Yi’an’s achievement. When he saw the certificate of merit, he could hardly bear to put it down.

This document served as the sole proof required to attend the metropolitan examinations, identifying the candidate. If lost, it would be a serious issue, as examiners recognized the certificate, not the person—unless the candidate hailed from Chang’an itself. Out-of-town scholars would have no chance to replace a lost one in time.

As soon as Yi’an stepped through the door, he was surprised to see Wei Liang. Normally, Wei Liang hardly ever left his study—always immersed in scholarship, or on his way to pursue it. Clearly, the officials had already come, but the degree of Wei Liang’s attention was unexpected.

Sure enough, Wei Liang’s very first words were: “Did you really come first in the provincial exams?”

Yi’an could only reply, “Assuming the examiners did not make a mistake in the postings, then it should be true.”

Wei Liang pondered this for a moment, then muttered, “The candidates this year must have been a poor lot…”

Yi’an: “???”

Wei Liang went on, “Let me see the essay you wrote for the provincial examination.”

Yi’an had no objections. Thanks to his prodigious memory, he was able to write out the essay he’d submitted, word for word, in no time at all.

Soon after the results were posted, it was customary for the top three essays to be displayed outside the prefectural school—both for public appreciation and to ensure fairness and transparency. People could judge for themselves, so no rumors could take root.

Wei Liang seized Yi’an’s essay eagerly. He hadn’t been particularly interested before, thinking he would wait for the results and then use a mediocre performance as motivation for Yi’an. But events had overtaken his plans; more than the title itself, what now intrigued him was the quality of Yi’an’s writing.

Wei Liang read in silence, his expression serious, and as he read he nodded repeatedly in approval. “The people are the foundation of the nation—well said! If those in power lose the support of the people, the country will fall apart. With the court in turmoil and traitors leading the nation astray, the Yanbei dynasty is destined to follow in the footsteps of its predecessor if this continues.”

Yi’an’s essay so closely matched Wei Liang’s own views that it seemed uncanny. The exam topic was “Governing with Virtue,” and any discussion of governance inevitably led back to the people. Beyond that, Yi’an’s essay excelled in analyzing not only how to govern, but also how officials should conduct themselves, and even addressed current shortcomings. The piece was flawless—a rare masterpiece.

Yi’an added, “The real problem is that those in power are not forceful enough. Only by resolutely eliminating corrupt officials, improving the legal system, and reforming outdated institutions can we begin to resolve the current crisis. Otherwise, the very foundation of the nation will be shaken, with unimaginable consequences.”

He left the rest unsaid: if a nation becomes irredeemably corrupt and shrouded in darkness, the direst outcome is always the fall of a dynasty—so it has always been.

If the Yanbei dynasty lost the support of its people, if even basic subsistence could not be guaranteed, what claim would the state have on their loyalty?

What would follow was inevitable: the people would rise in revolt, the Yanbei realm would splinter and collapse, bringing swift ruin.

This was no idle alarmism—history was replete with such examples.

Wei Liang sighed and said, “His Majesty is, in truth, a wise ruler. He is simply unfortunate to have been born in these times. Do you think he is unaware of these problems you mention? But nothing is ever as simple as it seems. The emperor, too, has his own burdens to bear.”